Steve, James, Tom, Franklin, Gavin, Steven, Albert and I rode around town. We oohed and aahed at Franklin’s new project – a motor-bicycle that he used to haul his bicycle to headquarters. Awesome. After we stopped grinning, we cycled to the track for some night laps, to the park for some recon, we lifted Toms heavy road bike, hammered into the wind for some lung searing pain, then hammered with the tailwind back to the clubhouse. David and Duke joined us for the meeting where the minutes included: “If your kids don’t wake up every hour – fuck you” – fair enough, we traded old man (read: us) medication stories, new school medication options include mixing Redbull and Buckley’s and eating Vics vaporub, Albert is Gavin’s new bike parts dealer, The Athena psycho-femme tattoo prompted thoughts of an ABES tramp-stamp, Steven hands his garbage bags directly to bears, congratulatory cigars were doled out by Franklin on the arrival of his new daughter – HUZZAH!, Dan will NEVER cycle to Kenora again and told a lady to shut-up, the golden age of wrestling, mental imagery training for cross season will not suffice, Southern Cross ideas included sand dollars and dangling goats, Head for the Hills ride (good luck and have fun), Dan has a “free” dark cross pass, and we remembered the time when a woman was beating Duke with an inflatable penis. Good times.
Franklin even brought a piece of wood to catch the grease drips.